* * *
Park
"It's Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday!" my dad sang. Yes, you indeed hear me right. My father was singing to Rebecca Black as our local radio station blasted it through our speakers. Technically speaking, it was our Smart TV which had a button that allowed us to access any radio station within range.
"Looking forward to the weekend. Partyin', partyin', partyin', YEAH!" and he fist bumped the air. "Come on, Park, sing along with me."
"No."
"Please, sweetheart? You used to sing along with me all the time when you were young."
"Correction: I hummed Beethoven and Mozart as you taught me about world history. And as of this moment I am merely choosing to not participate in a foolish and childish act." I then proceeded to take a sip of my milk. I nearly spilled it, and received a milk mustache as a reward.
"Congratulations, you are now in possession of a larger vocabulary than Jasper," my father muttered as he resumed scrubbing the oily pan with an abnormally large and pink sponge.
Reason number three as to why I decided to flee from Cimeria for a while: so I didn't have to deal with my little brother's abnormally advanced selection of vocabulary despite his age.
And my father was wrong: I have had a larger vocabulary than Jasper, I just chose not to show it.
Archer knew the most words along is though. But thinking of my dear older brother hurt too much, so I pushed the thought of him not showing up for the holidays and the birthdays out of my head and continued glaring at my cereal--well, what was left of it.
The doorbell sang its melody. My brow furrowed as I glanced towards the doorway. We never had visitors. I was a lonely little teenager with no friends and my father never had the time to settle down and frolick with the neighbors.
"Will you get the door, Park?" my father requested. "I invited someone over this morning."
I gave him the eye, my mind conjuring up about fifty different possibilities of who was standing outside the door. I took another swig of my milk before dashing towards the white painted oak-wood door.
"Cross?" I gaped. Then I rubbed my eyes furiously and squinted at him. Was that really him? There was someone standing there, their wet hair being dried by the early sun, the morning glow producing a rather angelic look. It quickly turned demonic as his golden eyes narrowed.
"Hats aren't allowed at school, Sparrow," he ordered, gesturing his chin towards the white beanie that sat on my red hair.
"Um, pardon me, but who's wearing the flat bill here?" I snapped.
"I have hat hair."
"Curly hair looks good with this beanie."
"That's no excuse."
"Just shut up and come in."
Logan smirked, pleased with my reaction. "Why, thank you, princess." He stepped in, and dusted off the bottom of his black sneakers with the sleeve of his jacket. Logan followed me back into the kitchen where he caught sight of my dad, scrubbing the dishes with a pink sponge while wearing a frilly white apron with apples and pies decorated all over the fabric.
"Morning, sir," Logan said, bewilderment in his voice. My old man's wide beaming smile challenged the dawning sun's radiance as he saw Logan standing by my chair.
"Well, good morning to you too, Logan!" he greeted enthusiastically. So enthusiastically that I pretended to loop my fingers in a He's-Crazy motion.
"Sweetheart, that's not very polite of you," he scolded me. I never told you guys that once upon a time, my father had trained to be an agent. He had eyes at the backing his head!
"Did you say hello to your bodyguard yet? I'm sure he's very tired from walking here just so he could take you to school."
"Well I certainly didn't invite him over here," I retorted. "And we must be on our way. Please excuse us." I stood up in a rush and pushed Logan back towards the entrance. My father had this crazy thought in his head that I actually liked Logan. Now he was trying to make me be nice to him.
Only in an alternate universe, old man.
"Have a wonderful day you two!" my father called out. Love and warmth poured from his words and once again, it triggered my fake gag reflex. I pulled Logan out of the door before my father could say anything.
"Your dad's funny," Logan laughed from behind me. I realized my fingers were still gripped around his jacket sleeve, and I quickly released it.
"Ha, ha," I said sarcastically. "I laugh at your humor."
"What's the matter, sweetheart?"
Oh, he did not just call me sweetheart!
My hidden strength surged out and I pushed him against a lamp post that just so happened to stand conveniently by. I could tell that some pain had entered his body as he grimaced and groaned.
"Don't call me sweetheart," I growled animalistically, my face dangerously close to his. Logan snapped open his eyes and the most bold leer.
"As you wish, princess," he sneered, expanding the syllables of the final word. Cross headed to shove me off of him. We gave each other the most vicious glares. Several feet was planted between our bodies and a disastrous atmosphere began boiling around us.
If I tripped, Logan would snap at me. If a tree branch snagged my sleeve or a strand of my wig, he'd yell at me even more. And if Logan would start slowing down, I'd growl at him to hurry up. If he took his time texting and standing, I'd scream at him.
"You're so pushy," I complained, pushing my bangs out of my eyes. I already had the sun, Logan Cross' face, and every possible tree branch out there damaging my eyes. Now my bangs were going to pick a fight with me?
"You act like such a freaking brat," he spat, eyeing me angrily. "If you don't hurry up, we'll both be late to class. And I, unlike you, enjoy arriving to my lessons on time. Also, my reputation is at stake here. I thought you said you weren't going to damage it."
I snorted. "I simply cannot recall any moment of which I summoned you to my residence. Not my fault, bro."
"I...am going to ignore your weird talking and just say that your father invited me over," he stumbled. I smiled slightly. It looked like spending all my summers with my younger brother Jasper has really paid off. Ah, the power of vocabulary and word usage.
"Ignore my father," I concluded as if it were the most simple solution to about anything.
"Ignore the king of Cimeria?" he bursted, waving his hands about like he just didn't care. Okay, I'm sorry. I just had to say that. Logan waved his hands through the air as if my very existence seemed so troublesome.
"Prince," I corrected. "My grandmother still holds the throne, meaning she's the queen. After my parents get remarried, she will renounce the throne and title, and then my old man and my mother will be the new queen."
Logan seemed interested, but too awkward to press anything else in my personal life. But his curiosity seemed to drive him too intensely. "Why'd you move here. You know, to America. And to this place, of all places?"
I hesitated. I had never told anyone, except for perhaps my family, Minnie, and Zen. The world believed that I wanted to study abroad the world. That was half true. But the other reason I kept to myself was that my life was in danger, and that meant I could endanger everyone else around me. Barely anyone knew that though, and I intended to keep it that way.
So I smiled impishly and skipped away, flashing him the most sarcastic and evil grin I could get. "You don't get to know that!" I sang cheerfully, skipping away and away. After my distance from him had grown quite a bit, my rhythmed jumping ceased and I resumed the normal way people would transition themselves from one place to another: walking.
I stopped at a crosswalk where I waited for the stupid white hand to being flashing and create Season Six: Intense Cross-Walk Racing. About fifteen to twenty other people stood there, Bluetooths clipped to their red ears, clutching purses or briefcases while a decaf coffee was cupped in their hands.
"Don't run off like that," a voice whispered softly and yet angrily into my ear. Strong hands fell upon my shoulder.
"Cross?"
"If it wasn't, he'd be on the ground right now. Strangers shouldn't touch princesses, right?"
It was him. Well, he caught up quick. How far had I ran away, at least beyond his sight right? And yet here he was already, hands placed protectively on my shoulder. But then the race started and I was suddenly at the very middle of the group, packed in with a lot of people who were unsatisfied with their life. And yes, they took it out on a helpless little girl. Those sick people.
I didn't have a clue where I was. All I knew was that I was stuck with men in black, and wearing black sunglasses that covered their soulless eyes. I was scared to call Logan's name out. The noise around me was so loud, and I couldn't breathe. I was way too close to this car's engine and the heat of its breath bit me.
All of a sudden, a warm hand laced themselves with my fingers so they could drag me away. I expected him to drop his grip the moment the cross walk ended. But no. Of course he had to keep me hanging by his side like a rag doll as he trekked our journey to the academy.
I blew out my breath and continuously called out his name. Nothing caught his attention and I soon realized he wasn't going to let go. So I busied myself with a hawk flying overhead, its great wings spreading wide and mighty.
"The universe just loves providing these ironic moments for me, doesn't it?" I muttered to myself, thinking of how the hawk's freedom sounded quite delectable since Logan's fingers magically transformed into fleshy shackles.
At last, he let go of my hand as we hit the gate. Either we were early or late. I didn't care. Oh wait, Mr. Uptight here did. At least, that's what my own mind had concluded as I saw his demonic eyes and tense posture. Even through his dress shirt I could see the muscles in his arm flex out of rage.
"Don't you ever do that again!" he groaned, banging his head on the metal pole that supported the gate. I instantly hurried to him and pulled the boy off the pole.
"Do what?" I sighed in exasperation. "You're going to leave a red mark. Stop it. Logan, I said stop--"
"Not until you promise me you'll never make me feel that way again," he growled, his face pressed against the pillar. I could barely hear him, not that I wanted to. So he was saying that it was my fault that I got lost in the midst of giants and couldn't find my way to the other side?
"It wasn't my fault!" I protested. "And make you feel like what? An idiot? Boy, you do that fine without my help."
What was he going on about? I couldn't have possibly made him that angry, right?
Unfortunately, the duke of Stubborn Land banged his head against the metal once more, creating a rather loud clang that reverberated around us. I snapped his name for he was beginning to attract attention from passersby, including my fellow peers.
Now let me tell you this: I have never been ashamed of myself that much around students. It was only Logan that could arouse a blush inside me. But when it came to stares, whispers, rumors, and name calling, I held my head proud and punched them in the face. Occasionally.
But as they shot me accusing stares and casted Logan worried looks, the most irritated blush blossomed on my cheeks. "Logan, please stop."
He might've well just threw a tantrum and screamed no. Logan punched the pole, cracking his knuckles and slapped his forehead against the pillar. This immature little boy really wasn't going to stop. But no way was I going to admit that Park Sparrow was at fault.
So I kicked him. Logan yelped in terror and pain as he crashed to the ground, clutching as his thigh as though it were bleeding. My lips curled in contempt as Logan threw the most vengeful glare at my red hair.
"What the hell was that for, you little..!" he howled, agonizing misery ringing proud and clear in his tone. Josh, Mark, and James, his player posse, known to me as Player Two, Player Three, and Player One, pulled me away from their god as soon as they came in sight.
"What are you doing, you freak?" Josh practically screamed. Logan's eyes never stopped their narrowing. He didn't come to my defense but let his own bodyguards loom over me like trolls awaiting their meal. Come on! He could save me from cars and being stampeded to death, but can't even come to my side?
I wanted to snap back. That was always my number one defense system: anger them some more. This time, however, I felt like an animal--confused, scared, and about to go crazy.
I decided that I would face Cross' militia some other time. My ankle boots whisked me away around the corner so the piercing stares of Josh and Logan wouldn't follow me. Oh, gods, did I just assault the prince of Cross Academy?
* * *
My fourth hour ended. Our stingy old professor, a germophobic fifty year old vulture who wore 1800th century clothes from her 1800th century wardrobe. As she lectured us on using the hand sanitizer bottle, my mind began to convince itself that Professor Bells was actually an ancient pterodactyl that was mobbed by millions of germs a million years ago and returned now to rid the world of bacteria by using her long lectures that even I could remember.
"Miss Sparrow," Professor Bells' croaky voice shrilled. I snapped my head up from the desk, unaware that the entire class was on the way the door. A few were still left standing by the end of the steps of the lecture hall snickered.
"Please keep your heads off the desk!" she said. "You can't even comprehend the enormous amount of bacteria that could be swarming all over the wood."
See? What did I tell you?
I muttered a hasty apology as I shoved my textbooks into my arms and hurried down the steps of the lecture hall's stairs. Crap, I had fallen asleep! As I shoved past the crowd of students clamoring at the door. I always knew lunch hour was always chaotic. Everyone always fought to get the closest seats to Cross and his groupies. But today, it was even more crowded than usual.
I frowned as someone blocked my only exit from the claustrophobic scents of Victoria's Secret perfumes and boy's deodorant that smelled more like the sewer mixed with fruit. I swept my bangs out of the way and peeped above everybody's head.
I'm short in my own eyes. But to others, I could probably pass for a average-heighted model. So I had no problem rising above everyone's head to try and see what the commotion was. Bad move.
Cross was standing there, his cruel friends flanking his sides, and he almost caught sight of my red hair. I ducked down and hid myself behind the bulky boy that was fifteen feet taller than me. What the hell was Cross doing here?
He was stalking me. That was the most sensible conclusion I could find. This morning I had my father to blame. But now? He was just clearly stalking me until I decided to say sorry and promise never to kick him again. That creep.
You are probably thinking that it's such a big school, he simply could be passing by, blah blah blah. No. Cross Academy was unintentionally split into two sections: the normally advanced section for smart teenagers, and then the freaky Einsteins and Thomas Edison's had their own section.
Before today, Logan Cross would've let himself die before he stepped foot into the low-lives section. Seriously. If he had ever performed such an act, his angel wings would disappear and he'd be forced to walk among us mere mortals, banished from his angel friends and whatever.
Girls were screaming for his attention while guys stood meekly before their own god. Worship was displayed in their glassy eyes, devotion and a sick love emanating from their bodies. What was this torture?
I tried to move out of the crowd without having my red hair attract the demon's attention. Slowly, I tiptoed my way to the edge where I could finally smell my freedom. For once I appreciated Professor Bells and her obsession with places that smelled good. Freedom!
And then déjà vu struck me. Kind of. Like my first year, I was lost and trying to find a way out of the crowd. And like my first year, no one noticed me. Normally that would've been amazing. No comments, no dirty looks. But I wish they had glanced at my red hair and not kicked me in the shin. I cried out in pain and fell to the ground, cursing profanities like the end of the world.
The palms of my hands had broken my fall, sending waves of shock and pain up my arm. My skin was scraped and bleeding slightly. It must've been some fall.
And then I realized with a horror that the mob of lovestruck girls and boys had fallen terribly silent. As the miserable pain of my fall faded away, it was replaced with a fear, a fear caused by many eyes staring holes into my backs.
My eyes darted to the left, and I realized why. The demon's black sneakers were standing beside, waiting for me to lift my head up. I didn't want to. To look into his eyes after I had kicked him rather aggressively this morning would be very scary.
A Seventeen magazine laid sprawled open on the floor, just like me. My hands shot out and snatched it. It was held up to my face as I attempted to leave. The kids in front of me surprisingly parted their thick knot of bodies so I could pass through. Confusion began to settle in.
He wasn't following me. Josh, Mark, and James weren't glaring at me like angry blowfishes. No one was stealing angry, disgusted looks at my hair and me. In fact, they seemed rather in awe of me. Intimidation was around me as I moved past.
This was exactly what I didn't want at this school. I felt like I was the princess again, a crown on my head with the finest of dresses clothing me. Anxiety and dismay pumped through my veins. I broke into a run, throwing away the magazine while I was at it.
My sprint had taken me in the abandoned courtyards of the academy in about no time. This place was the rumored area of ghosts. Along with the Locker Ghost hallway, which was where my locker was at. To be honest, I was the one spreading ghostly stories about the Locker Ghost.
Don't tell.
But this courtyard was haunted, even to me. No one approached it. It was in the shady part of school, where great oak branches and pine trees loomed above the small area, casting darkness onto the cobblestoned ground. Dried leaves flew past as the wind began dancing spookily. It was my sanctuary.
I collapsed against the broken fountain, my back facing the entrance so no one would notice I was here. Did that just happen? Did the student body find out? No, no, no! Then all of my years of acting stupid and weird were just a complete waste. Jut the stupid part. My weirdness was a completely unique trait of mine, stuck with me until the day i died.
My breathing intensified, my eyes got blurry.
I didn't want to leave. But if they were to know...I would have but only one choice to make. My safety, my family's safety, my kingdom's future was at stake here.
"Why'd you run?" a voice asked. Was it Logan? I didn't feel like checking. I didn't feel like doing much except burying my head into my lap and wishing the previous event away.
"Go away!" I snapped, shivering from my thoughts. Who found out? Who said it? The only person who could've done it was Logan, for he was the only one that knew. But he was under strict orders to never reveal my identity, and Cross strike me as a rule breaker. Yeah, the apocalypse would have to happen before he even stepped out of line.
Cross sat down next to me, his leg touching mine. I looked up and glared at him ferociously. Energy wasted. He wasn't even looking at me; he was staring straight ahead, averting his golden eyes from mine.
"That was an order," I snapped.
"You seem scared. It's my job to protect you if you're scared," he replied, finally casting the most handsome look at me. My lips trembled. I was scared. I didn't like it either. I didn't like his soft, almost caring tone, the way they stared at me with a newfound admiration, or the fact that I might have to leave.
"Why'd they do that, Logan?" I asked, my voice shaking. "They looked at me like...they liked me. Like I was you."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Yes!" Couldn't that dense jerk tell? I was trembling like a mouse caught in a trap!
"Why? Does it have anything to do with my question this morning?" he inquired, lazily rolling his heads towards me, a curious glint sparkling in his golden orbs.
"Actually, it does," I shot. "They know, Logan. They know that I'm the princess.. If they start spreading that around, bad things will happen to me. Very bad things. I can't have that happen! Logan, I'm freaking out over here!"
My personal bodyguard sensed the panic in my voice and before I knew it, Logan hugged me. His hand stroked my back as I tried to calm myself down. Finally, he spoke. "No one told them. There's a different reason why you're not being tripped today."
Relief drown me and my bundle of overreacting nerves began to fall apart. Only to be put together once more, a skeptical feeling acting as the glue. Then why would they stop calling me names? What could possibly convince the student body to stop tripping me or bullying me so much? I was harmed here to the extent where one might commit suicide. I could only think of one person who could stop such a thing.
"What did you do, Logan?" I said in the most steely voice I had ever heard escape from my mouth.
"Nothing!" he proclaimed, still refusing to let go of me. I drew away from him and looked up. No longer did he look like this casual boy who could smirk in the face of death and walk away lazily. The laid back, hard-to-get glow was gone; now he sat there with a furious pink color spreading across his cheeks while he bashfully ran his fingers through his thick brown hair.
I cackled and poked him in his chest. Even that motion injured my fingers. "Then what's your blush for?"
"I'm not blushing."
"Yeah, and I'm an alien from Jupiter sent here to demolish Earth. If you hide secrets from me, I will ninja on your ass." There was threatening vibe carried in those syllables.
"Okay, so I felt bad about not sticking up for you this morning. Josh noticed that I wasn't acting like my normal self, then he started questioning me about why you kicked me. I wouldn't answer him, and that ticked him off. He's kind of pushy. So he started yelling in the middle of the hallway and started rude stuff about you."
"Oh, gee, I wonder who that reminds me off," I snorted sarcastically.
"I started defending you, and then Josh started screaming at me. After that, he started asking really loudly if I liked you. Then Josh insulted you even more, this time with support from Mark and James. I just felt really cornered and I blurted that you were really pretty."
My brain forgot how to breathe and in seconds, I was laughing heavily. Was this for real? Or did my old man forget to push me out of the bed this morning and I was still fast asleep?
My impish little smile urged him to continue. He was so pink now! Like the color of strawberry milkshakes mixed with vanilla ice cream.
"They...flipped out over that. Flipping out would actually be an understatement."
"Let me guess; they shoved you against a wall, telling you to snap out of it, and realize what you just said. They asked if you were on medication or taking drugs. You said no, then one of them literally slapped you," I suggested. Logan gaped at me, the truth plain on his face.
"'Logan Cross got slapped!" That line of thought sent me into hysterics, and I doubled over with malicious laughter, ignoring the humiliated face that was permanently engrained onto his angelic features. Did the prince finally have someone knock him off his high horse?
"That's not the worse of it either!" he groaned. "I didn't want to be slapped, and James started calling you rather mean things when I told all of them that if they didn't shut up about you, I'd beat them up because....well, because I said I liked you."
The grin slid off my face the moment he said that. "What?"
"That's why they were in awe. Most of them thought that since I like Park Sparrow, she's got to have potential in her. Isn't it good, though? They'll stop making fun of you, we can hang out together without arousing suspicion, and no one knows about your secret."
"Cross!" I screeched, spiteful murder raging in my eyes.